The Wild Hunt
by Msomaji
Summary: 'The hounds from the underworld hunt wrongdoers into the ground until they can run no longer.' When Merlin and Arthur enter a forest where witches are rumoured to dwell, they find themselves being judged by a higher presence. Or: In which the search for Morgana goes awry, taking canon for a tour. Fix-It. Gen. Canon. Post 2.13 The Last Dragonlord.
1. Chapter 1

**The Wild Hunt**

**.**

**.**

**.**

_On Yule nights in years past, when the wind was nigh imperceptible, the sky clear, and the night so cold that even the animals kept to their holes and nests, Mallt the Goddess of Law and Balance sent out her pack of ethereal hounds to hunt among men._

_Some say, her hounds were white as the otherworld itself, with ears as red as blood, signifying the death they carried with them._

_Others state, they couldn't be seen, you could only hear them coming. Their howling was loudest when they were at a distance, and as they drew nearer, it grew softer and softer. When they came for you, it was a death portent._

_Nan used to say, you couldn't see them, nor hear them. They sensed you and all your wrongdoings. When they found you wanting, you'd feel the terror of their presence. All of your darkness would pour out for the world to see. And they'd chase you till you could run no longer…_

_Such lore has no place in current times. What purpose would they serve? When – instead of red-eared dogs – there is the threat of red-cloaked men? They are the hunters, the slaughterers, the danger. Why fear the hounds of the wild hunt?_

_Better fear your King, child!_

_._

_._

_._

* * *

"Where precisely are we going?" Merlin hurried after Arthur, shoving the large day pack Arthur had told him to carry back in its proper position on his back for the umpteenth time "And why aren't we taking the horses?"

"The horses deserve a day's rest, Merlin," The prince drawled his name as he lengthened his stride.

"Oh, the horses do?" Merlin grumbled in indignation under his breath, nearly falling over his own feet while readjusting the handles of his pack and simultaneously trying to keep up with the prat's pace.

"Well that, plus they are likely not able to follow where we are going."

"Leon and Degore took horses." Merlin commented, having noticed the absence of both knights and their mounts this morning.

"Well, they are not exactly on the same quest as we, now are they?"

"I wouldn't know, _sire_. As your majesty failed to tell me _where-we-are-going_." Merlin huffed. Arthur had been rather low on the details yesterday evening when he told Merlin to prepare for another day's hike – and to assist Leon and Degore with arrangements for their own, separate quest. It had squashed all Merlin's hopes for a nice full day of rest and recuperation at the quaint inn the four of them just arrived at.

They'd been travelling for months now, occasionally accompanied by Camelot knights. They had spread around all the realms in Albion and beyond in groups of two to four, travelling in commoner clothing to inquire unobtrusively for Morgana.

As of yet the search parties Merlin had been involved in had resulted only in too many close encounters with bandits, displeased Kelpies and mistrustful villagers but nothing remotely helpful. It was as if Morgause had disappeared from the world and took Morgana with her.

Currently they were in a very bushy forest deep in Mercia, near the mountains of Elmet – the focus of Leon and Degore's quest today, Merlin knew. The purpose of their own quest was what eluded him now. Normally Arthur wasn't this tight-lipped about operations he evidently felt to be secure enough to execute with just the two of them. It made Merlin suspicious.

"If you think you can again dangle me as human bait for some ill-reputed kobolds that claim they contain all knowledge in the world, you have a…"

A sudden _whoosh_ knocked Merlin back midsentence, as if an abrupt gust of strong wind – but not quite - pushed at him. Startled, Merlin looked up. The canopy up ahead seemed unaffected by whatever was pushing Merlin back. Autumn leaves still hung dejectedly down, only disturbed by the light breeze that had been present the entire morning. Ahead of Merlin, Arthur was steadily making his way through the underbrush, seemingly without noticing whatever _thing_ was pushing Merlin back.

"Arthur!" he gasped, desperately grabbing forward to grasp the common clothed prince and pull him out _whatever-this-was_, but only managing to stumble backwards. Suddenly all was quiet again. Merlin gawped at the still forest in front of him that seemed as innocuous as ever.

Now actually paying attention to his surroundings, Merlin noticed the forest _was_ different from the woods they'd been traversing through. It looked… dead. Leaves clung despondently from carcasses of trees; little to no traces of animal life, no birds, mammals or insects.

Tentatively and curiously he reached out with his magic, poked the area in front of him. The magic was cast back at him as if he'd thrown a bucket of water against a wall.

Still investigating the forest, Merlin noticed in his peripheral vision Arthur stalking back to where Merlin daren't – couldn't? - go further. He was sure to comment on Merlin being a girl, or dawdling, or being a nuisance in general, but Merlin beat him to it "What is this place?"

"This, Merlin -" Arthur placed a jovial arm around Merlin's neck, spreading the other arm wide towards the lifeless trees in invitation as if it was something great to behold " - is a dead forest."

"And… ?" Merlin let the question hang, dreading the answer.

"A magical, dead forest that…" The hand behind his neck now gripped and bodily pulled Merlin forward.

Whatever else Arthur was adding to that statement Merlin completely missed as his body staggered forward but his magic stayed behind. Merlin felt stretched. Pulled thin and oddly like a fish that had just been hauled out of the water. Then his magic slammed back in him, throwing him – and Arthur - forward.

"You, klutz!" Arthur bodily dragged Merlin's disoriented limbs up in a somewhat standing position. Merlin gulped in air like that fish on dry land. His head was slapped. Not violent, but enough for Merlin to make him notice his surroundings again.

He leant against the carcass of a tree. The area was open but felt enclosed. Constricted. Surreptitiously he absorbed the environment now he was _inside_.

What he'd seen on the outside he felt all the more on the inside. This forest was not only dead, it seemed entirely depleted of magic. He'd never really noticed how full of magic a forest normally was until he missed the steady thrum of the trees and plants, the energetic magic of the birds, the bustle of bees and the comforting magic of the soil. Merlin was dizzy with its absence.

It took him a moment to notice that Arthur was regarding him strangely. "If this is the effect staying over one night in a tavern is having on you, remind me not to stay over in one again for the duration of our search." He stated, before walking away and investigating.

Merlin woozily watched him go.

"Prat."

.

* * *

_._

_in the centre of the dying forest, her slumbering hounds awakened_

_._

* * *

.

It took a bit but the dazedness mostly dissipated.

Merlin concentrated on his feet while following Arthur further into the constricted area.

Merlin noted muzzily, there was undeniably less underbrush here than in the previous – full of live – forest they had traversed. Yet somehow he had a lot more trouble staying on his feet here.

When he finally had his limbs – not his thoughts, those seemed to slip into any direction - well enough under his own control again, they were already some ways into the magically constricted but physically open wood. His dizziness was replaced by a sense of discomfort. The vast emptiness seemed to leech on his magic and – strangely enough - tug on his memories. Thoughts of his mistakes, mishaps, regrets fighting for their place on the forefront of his mind. _A fireball hitting Nimueh, Will dying in his arms…_

"Could you please tell me why, exactly -" stumble, slip "- we are traversing unarmed and on- foot through this- _dead_ and _magic_ forest?" he haltingly asked, and feared the answer.

Ahead of him Arthur finished carving a subtle mark in a particularly broad tree with the tip of his boot knife – the only weapon he carried when in his commoner disguise.

"You had me worried there for a moment, Merlin. Following without blabbering. Though more glad than worried of course." Arthur directed a grin over his shoulder. Merlin barely caught it - _images of witches on the executioners block in Camelot, bandits falling on their own swords or pierced by redirected arrows_ \- but Arthur continued. "When you were looking after the horses yesterday, Leon and I had a conversation with the innkeeper about any magically suspect areas in this region. Of course he told us about the caves beneath the Elmet mountains, but he also mentioned this forest. According to local lore, it started dying around the time of the purge. It has been speculated that sorcerers and witches have used it as their magical hideout ever since."

The prince walked further ahead, staring at the canopy. Merlin dazedly followed his sight and saw blackened carcasses of desolate branches against a grey mid-noon sky. _Branches falling, skulls cracking…_

"It seems fitting, does it not? A magical forest would be a dead forest, with all destruction magic causes? For once, there might actually be some truth to these rumours."

Merlin had no answer to that, though, despite the weird effect the forest had on him, he felt the opposite was true. It was the absence of magic, rather than the presence, that had caused the forest to die. He felt the loss distinctly. _A series of knights dying at the hands of a conjured snake, a risen wraith, a magical illness not stopped in time_…

"Here is the plan. According to the innkeeper this area is only a few acres wide. It is enclosed to the west by the plain of Bast, to the north by the cliffs of Aire that tower over the Derwent river and downstream in the east it borders on the foot of the Elmet mountains and its caves."

_Caves collapsing upon a body of anonymous men; calling thunder and lightning down from the edge of a cliff abolishing dozens of opponents in one go_. Merlin shuddered at the reminder of the futures he had seen in the crystal of Neahtid.

Oblivious of Merlin's inner turmoil, Arthur continued, "We'll follow the perimeter of this forest describing a wide circle. When we're back to this point we'll go a hundred yards deeper into the forest and do it again. That way we scour the entire forest, and if there is any hint of the presence of sorcerers, of Morgause, if there is any chance it will help us find Morgana…" Arthur faltered, ran an impatient hand through his unkempt hair.

Even with his mind differently occupied Merlin understood. Gather leads, investigate, and if there appeared to more beyond the rumour, double back, regroup and come back with a bigger force and a detailed plan. For months they'd travelled like this.

The familiar block of guilt, present ever since he held a choking Morgana in his arms, melted, expanded and rolled off him until it felt almost tangible in the same way his magic normally did. He choked.

The ever increasing fog of fear, guilt and gruesome memories tied his tongue, tangled his limbs and trapped one other prominent thought: _we have to get out of here_.

.

* * *

_._

_their nostrils flared on the once-familiar scent of guilt and regret_

_._

* * *

.

Arthur was on edge. The forest was eerie – beyond travelling-through-deserted-and-dead-forest eerie.

Of course he would never let it show.

In contrast, Merlin was being his startled-into-oafishness self. Stumbling more than walking and flinching at nothing at all.

Yesterday in the warm tavern, in a fresh set of dreary commoner garb and hearty hot meal in front of him, Arthur had thought this would be a quick and uninteresting quest. Boring even. - Locals afraid of an area , claim magical cause, turns out to be completely natural instead. - Arthur had experienced it too often during this search for Morgana already.

He'd almost sent Degore and Merlin out to investigate, to explore the far more interesting Elmet cave system himself together with Leon. But if this search for Morgana taught him one thing, it was that Merlin would disregard his orders to _stay with Sir Degore_ and follow him instead. Thus it was safer and less time consuming for everyone if Arthur took up the more boring quests every now and then.

This particular quest had progressed from boring to interesting and _eerie_ rather quick.

The dead forest was actually dead, for one. Arthur had anticipated anything from figure-of-speech to natural causes to magically induced but somehow his visualisations hadn't come any near the reality.

The trees, plants, bushes, though certainly dead for years on end - and unstable by wind and weather it looked like – were not rotten. Even the leaves that had fallen and made for a nice noise silencing padding, hadn't entered the phase of usual decay. There didn't appear to be any animals at all. No rustling of leaves by birds or mice, no scampering squirrels or martens, not even a notion of the carcasses one would expect in a not-decaying dead wood.

The second interesting bit was, none of this had been marked on the map he surreptitiously carried with him, even though the detailed record was explored and drawn by an apprentice of Monmouth not thirty years ago. It showed all this regions peculiarities and sites a traveller should be wary of, including the sites that bordered this forest. The tumultuous river of Derwent in the north, the parallel indents suggesting high cliffs on each side of the stream, the upturned V shapes of the Elmet mountain range in the east and the squiggly symbol which he knew referred to the cave system beneath the mountain.

From his conversation with the innkeeper Arthur knew the river really was as treacherous and wild as the wriggly lines pen strokes suggested, the bordering cliffs as high and the maze as convoluted: full of fissures, clefts and caverns cut out by the tumult of the Derwent river streaming through and beneath the mountains.

Arthur made another mark in another dead tree.

Considering its peculiarities, this forest should have been noted on the map too, yet wasn't. Which meant, the magical death and subsequent stupor of this forest were likely as new as the innkeeper suggested. And that made the witches-hiding-since-purge theory all the more likely and Arthur all the more weary. It may even be that dead trees were an illusion, created by magic users to keep intruders out. They may even be observed right now by vindictive sorcerers and witches. He envisioned a smirking Morgause, brown eyes kohl-lined and blonde curls sweeping victoriously on a subtle draft, looking down on him and holding him in place with the power of magic alone.

How would he ever effectively strive against the evils of magic? Seeking that knowledge, even if only to counteract and defend, felt to him like tip-toeing the line of corruption. A line he wasn't comfortable crossing.

Despite his misgivings, they made quite good progress. Merlin held his tongue for once. Though that didn't mean he was being any less loud, falling even more over his feet than Arthur was used from him.

A wolf yowl sounded right behind him. He whirled around but saw nothing except an inebriated-looking manservant stumbling behind him. Merlin startled from Arthur's abrupt movement, but appeared oblivious to the howl Arthur just heard.

He scanned the forest behind him and then in a circle around him. Nothing. Had he imagined it?

Suspicious, he made another mark in another tree. They'd completed near three quarters of their original round. The border on their left now coincided with the Aire cliffs overhanging the Derwent river. He could hear the tumult of the raucous torrent deep below. Arthur estimated only a small round in the heart of the forest would be required to complete today's quest and leave – maybe to return later with a bigger force and a studied plan.

He heard howling again, loud and close, a group of half a dozen wolves or hounds perhaps. Arthur stood stock-still. Merlin bumped into him from behind, causing a clatter of whatever utensils he'd packed. Arthur pushed him back, annoyed, and held a warning finger in his manservant's face. "Sshh!" Merlin's eyes followed the finger droopily, and normally Arthur would have commented on his manservant's state but now he was otherwise occupied.

Intently he listened while checking all their surroundings. Nothing.

Then abruptly, another wail. South to South-West. Still loud yet seemingly further away.

Merlin appeared deaf to the yowls.

With the wolves apparently moving away from them, Arthur took a moment to study his manservant. "Merlin?"

"Hmmm?" The boy did not meet his eyes, tracking something invisible that had nothing to do with the direction of the sounds Arthur heard. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Merlin" he repeated more firmly, gaining more of the boy's conscious attention. Blue eyes large, face strained, his entire body language screamed fear and panic - perhaps he'd heard the wolves after all - but at least his focus was now on Arthur. It was strange, seeing Merlin like that. He almost always seemed to be the bravest of them all.

"There is - Ther'sssss – _something_. We sh- sh- leave." As Merlin stuttered his disjointed sentences, Arthur heard another howl, seemingly from quite a distance. Merlin's body made motions as if he was ready to bolt at any moment. He must have heard the wolves too – though if they were there at all, they seemed to be retreating.

Arthur firmly grabbed Merlin's upper arm. Just to prevent the idiot from having any stupid ideas. Like running. "You heard it too?"

Merlin gave a whimper but otherwise did not react at all. Frustrated and alarmed Arthur watched as the boy seemed to shrink in on himself quietly repeating, "_No no no no_…"

Tightening his grip on his manservant's jacket sleeve, he started to pull Merlin forward, out of this forest. Inconveniently, the cliffs and river on their left currently blocked their route to the closest way out. The fastest, safest route was downstream, following the river's course toward the mountains of Elmet.

Arthur ignored the continued but ever diminishing noises of wolves, the increased muttering of Merlin who seemed to be pleading and apologising now to figments and shadows Arthur wasn't privy to.

Then up ahead Arthur suddenly saw something strikingly white move swiftly through the woods. He pushed Merlin quickly against a tree that shuddered at the onslaught and peered beyond Merlin and the tree to inspect the forest.

First he saw nothing. Then from both the south and south-east stark-white wolves moved with a hunter's grace toward them. He heard their full-throated howls, growing incongruently more quiet the closer they moved. From all directions more wolves joined. Their ears were blood red.

_Death portent,_ whispered the memory of one of his once caretakers. Arthur humphed. Old wives tales, and superstition, more like.

Beside him Merlin whimpered.

Arthur blocked Merlin against the tree, physically protecting him against the threat of the wolves.

"Merlin" he said urgently. "Wolves react to running wild life, but they respect that what appears stronger than them. So we have to make them fear and respect us. Follow my lead." _And if you don't, I'll drag your idiot body out._ "One. Two. Three. Go!"

.

* * *

_._

_their howl softer and softer the nearer they drew_

_._

* * *

.

Merlin distantly noticed his body being moved about. The oppressing malevolence that poured out a cascade of thoughts and memories and regrets and _guilt_ seemed to stalk closer and closer though no matter where his body was dragged to.

As this malign _presence_ oozed on him from seemingly all directions, Merlin felt the urge to run build. Only a body and a hand held him in place. Then the body disappeared and the hand pulled. It wasn't enough to ground him. The compulsion to flee hit Merlin overwhelmingly.

His arm wrenched away from the hand gripping it. His hand dropped the day packs; his feet stumbled and ran. His ears heard Arthur roaring out his name.

His mind was consumed with one thought.

Flee.

.

* * *

_._

_her hounds gave chase_

_._

* * *

.

Arthur saw the whites of his manservant's eyes, the look of utter horror that appeared to be directed at nothing in specific – not even the noise of the wolves - and then Merlin bolted as if death itself was on his heels.

"Merlin!" Arthur roared out.

The wolves howled. And followed. Arthur noted their howling inexplicably grew louder now they were running away from him.

"Merlin!" he bellowed again. Chasing his manservant's trail.

If there were any unseen onlookers, as he suspected, he paid them little mind. He could not fight against shadows, so unless they started to materialize he would by damn follow his ridiculous servant and rescue him from the plight he found himself in.

He ran along the path that Merlin had cut through the forest and with alarm realised the direction his manservant was heading to.

A big broken branch showed that Merlin must have stumbled and fallen. Yards away he saw the muffled brown of Merlin's attire, crouched in on himself, far too close to the cliff's edge for Arthur's comfort of mind. He did not see or hear any of the wolves.

"Merlin!" he shouted in relief and desperation both.

If Merlin heard it, he didn't show it. His arms protecting his ears as if he was trying to refuse to listen, but failing badly if the shaking of his head was any indication.

Arthur ran as if the hounds were chasing him now.

A chorus of wolves howled in the distance, and Merlin disappeared off the cliff's ledge.

.

* * *

_._

_and hunted the wrongdoer_

_._

* * *

_._

_Morgana choking in his arms, looking up at him shocked-frightened-accusing. A chandelier dropping on Mary. An axe cleaving Edwin. Obliterating Sophia, Nimueh… Kilgarrah attacking Camelot nights on_ _end_. Sooo many deaths. All his mistakes. All his fault.

_Monster_…

An urge to flee, to run. To jump.

Merlin absently noticed his body falling. His shoulder hit a hard surface; fell through it right after. Freezing wetness filled mouth and nose.

A last thought, _perhaps it is better like this_…

Then nothing.

.

* * *

_._

_until they could run no longer_

_._

* * *

.

Arthur reached the cliff's edge in a moment, disbelieving what he just saw. "No!"

The cliff was at least thirty feet high here, the river below wild and twisting around boulders. No sign of Merlin.

.

* * *

_._

_like the wrongdoer, magic washed out of her dome_

_._

* * *

.

"You are Arthur Pendragon," a woman's voice. The voice held a note of curiosity, as if she had just discovered something she had been puzzling over for a while.

Arthur whirled around, directing all of his fury to the robed figure that had appeared. Impossible to guess her age - or her gender, if it wasn't for the voice – unremarkable in any way. The dozen or so pure white, red-eared wolves stood behind her. Now they appeared a pack of docile, even demure – but attentive - hounds, seemingly completely under her control.

"Who are you?" he growled, keeping one eye on her and one eye of the pack of hounds – one dislodged itself from the group and started sniffing the air in front of him as if some of his ardour piqued their special interest.

Instead of speaking with her mouth, her voice sounded in his head.

_I am the keeper of balance, judge of all things magical, if you will. That is all you need to know, son of Uther Pendragon._

The hounds formed a half-circle around him. All sniffing the air and looking menacing again. He wanted to snarl at them and the woman that appeared to be controlling them. Throw them off the edge of the cliff. But he realised he was barely in a position of power at the moment and weighed his options.

He could jump past the hounds and leap after Merlin into the whirling river below, or try his luck with the woman. The hounds looked ready to devour him as their afternoon meal. The river looked like a guaranteed – but more merciful – death. He winced, thinking of Merlin.

She continued, her eyes staring with an intensity that suggested she was not only speaking in his mind but looking through it and dissecting it.

_It took us a bit to realise, my Cwn and I, the magic within you is so small, a smudge, little more. Yet I recognize it, saw it before in a new-born. You see, your birth was rather suspect. And as balance-keeper, I felt honour bound to go and check whether the proper ways were followed and the magical balance was not disturbed._

Arthur fleetingly thought back to time Morgause showed him the mirage of his mother, and uneasily he wondered…

The woman, this self-proclaimed _judge_, smiled knowingly and continued.

_Though the deal was morally questionable, all parties were informed and consenting, all magical criteria were met and balance unaffected. There was no reason for me to interfere or demand reparation._

Arthur started to feel distinctly uncomfortable, and it had nothing to do with the eerie atmosphere of the dead forest, the magical creatures that threateningly surrounded him, his impatience to search for his manservant or the way this sorceress kept speaking calmly in his head – as if she was discussing a matter she was completely impartial to. It had everything to do with the content of her words and _what if they held truth_?

_It was only one season later when we realised, the balance was disturbed. It appeared Uther, that pitiful __mundane__ man_ \- she almost spat the words in his mind, not calm about this -_was completely upturning balance all by himself. With his purge! Killing magical beings without a care, spilling all their magic in the air without caring to somehow bind it. The resulting magical storm…_

The woman faltered for a bit, as if stumbling over her memories.

_I tried passing judgement upon Uther. Right the world of his wrongs. But my powers cannot affect the mundane. _

She stared him straight in the eye now, not looking as if she was reading his thoughts anymore– perhaps she had seen all that she needed to see, Arthur thought with a grimace – and told him with a smirk-like laugh aloud, "I am explaining this all to you so that you know why - besides the many valid reasons my Cwn just extracted from your mind - I am passing judgement on you."

The hounds, the _Cwn_, growled at that and memories of _a burning druid camp, howls of sorcerers right before their execution, lifeless bodies of drowned children, a woman charred by dragon's fire_ fleeted through his mind.

"Understand this, Arthur Pendragon. Your father destroyed balance upon your birth. He will now pay for it with your death. At the same time, your death will also avenge all misdeeds you have inflicted on the magical community."

And with that statement, a flood of memories came over him, together with an irresistible urge to run. But Arthur was not Prince of Camelot for naught. Resist this evil magic he would.

Through the onslaught of memories, he thought of Merlin and how he must have experienced something similar too. Through gritted teeth, and locking his knees so he would not give in to the urge to run or leap he got out accusingly "What about Merlin? How is his death supposedly justified?"

For a moment she seemed puzzled, then realised who he was talking about. "I do not know what troubled his mind. My Cwn passed judgement upon him without my intervention. Which must mean his crimes were severe enough that the penalty was justified."

It struck him wrong in so many ways.

"You dare to let these monsters pass judgement on men, without trial, without the royal right!"

She seemed wholly unaffected by his outrage. "The boy passed judgement upon himself."

Then it appeared all time for conversation was over. The hounds advanced on him, like they had done Merlin, with ears flat on their necks, their lips retracted to show rows of sharp teeth. Their soundless growls chafed at Arthur's resolve and their spell took further hold. All thoughts and memories insistently came to the forefront of his mind and though he valiantly fought back, he felt he was losing.

_Screams of women and children, of men, of the druid encampment on his first raid; the_ _desperation of the towns people he could not help during the dragon's attack; a sorceress, found guilty of saving a man's life with magic, screaming on a pyre; bullying servants and townspeople in his younger years; submitting Gaius to the cruelty of the Witchfinder;__even guilt about hitting Merlin one time too hard or sloshing him in mop water._

Each thought built an irresistible urge to run. Flee from the hounds, flee from the thoughts, Arthur did not know anymore. Slowly and surely he lost more and more of his steadfastness and control and his feet started to move.

.

* * *

_._

_to be bound to the earth again_

_._

* * *

.

Freezing cold. Relentless, icy fingers dragging him onwards and smacking him against rock. A gasp of air; a gulp of water. Gagging. Heaving. Burning lungs.

The current too swift, the rock face's on each side too steep.

"O Drak- " Another gag of river.

A boulder. A swirl.

Merlin felt himself slip.

A burst of magic. Directionless into nothingness.

Merlin followed.

.

* * *

_._

_stabilising magic's scale once more_

_._

* * *

.

Arthur ran. He did not know how he passed the hounds – or did they let him pass, giving them something to chase? – but he felt them now at his heels rather than in front of him.

He ran through bushes and underbrush. Decades of training kicked in to zigzag and use his surroundings to outrun his pursuers. He tried to keep the river to his left, running downstream toward the foot of the Elmet mountains. But the unnatural, spell-induced panic and fright made his footwork sloppy and his tactics abominable. He no longer knew whether he was running from his thoughts or the followers he could no longer hear or see, but feel distinctly.

Fleetingly he thought, I don't know how long I can keep this up.

Then the whole world crashed down on him.

.

* * *

_._

_the two of them bound_

_._

_to a similar faith_

_._

_upon drowning and death_

_._

_their balance restored_

_._

_._

_._

* * *

****Author's note: Here's to my first fic ever! Mayor thanks to wryter501 whose on point comments made this story so much more than I ever imagined it could be. Without her observations and encouragement this fic would probably have drivelled in the recesses of my folders for an eternity to come. For those that may be worried about the cliffie, no worries, chapter 2 (also the last) is written already.  
****


	2. Chapter 2

**Major thanks for all your reads, follows, faves and reviews on the previous chapter! Made me quite happy :)  
I am curious what you'll think of this next one. I want to say more about it, but it all feels too spoilery. So only one thing left to say. Enjoy!**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**The Wild Hunt - Chapter 2**

.

.

_her world imploded, her barrier shattered _

_a tremendous influx of raging magic _

_filling the entirety of Albion _

.

_Uther's storm_

_entering her magic-free dome_

.

_her Cwn out of control_

_once more_

.

.

.

_but no_

.

.

.

_this was not Uther's storm_

.

_not the infinite rage_

_of magic users killed_

_before their time_

.

_it was the magic of only one_

.

_the magic of the boy_

_the boy whose power_

_had filled the entire dome_

.

_now it was a storming rage_

_shredding balance in its path_

.

_the death of one sorcerer_

_the cause of this destruction_

.

_she had seen him_

_._

_she had felt him_

.

_but she had been too confounded_

.

.

_to see_

_._

_to feel_

.

.

_who he was_

.

.

* * *

.

Screaming root dripping with sooty lard, abruptly quiet. A spell broken mid-sentence, power lost. A shard of sudden clarity, evaporating the persistent fog clouding her mind.

.

* * *

.

_who they both were_

.

* * *

Arthur slammed into a dead tree trunk that croaked precariously upon impact and forced his breathing to slow down. His breath heaved and he could barely pull in the next lungful of air. Hanging against the tree, he slowly realised the feeling of being followed by quick and terrifying shadows was receding. The frightful images of his memories abated too.

Still exhausted and on shaking legs, he turned around. The dead forest – though still eerie – appeared empty. No hounds – in appearance, noise, or felt presence – no woman, no Merlin. It felt different. As if a spell that had held the forest in its hold had disappeared too.

Noises of the adjacent living woods spilled through, though these sounds had been absent earlier. A bird flew overhead and he swore he could hear a tiny animal shoot through the underbrush some dozen of yards behind him.

And for a moment he thought he'd imagined it all, but for the memory of Merlin's dash and leap.

Uncomfortable, Arthur tried not to think about what Merlin could possibly feel guilty about that the hounds would affect him enough to drive him from a cliff's edge. Then a second thought came to him. That woman had said, she could only influence those with magic or a magic mark - like him apparently. What did that mean for Merlin?

It was a useless question without Merlin around so he would have to find him first. Arthur pushed himself away from the tree and oriented himself. He was still close to cliff's edge, at least three furlongs downstream from the point he'd last seen Merlin.

The river was raging deep below in the narrow and rocky path it had cut through the granite soil. What slim chance he thought he'd had of finding his manservant alive diminished by this look at it. But no. He would not give up on Merlin before he found him.

Arthur set off in a controlled jog eastwards along the cliff, towards the roots of the Elmet mountain, looking for a safe way to get down the cliffs. He'd enter the cave system beneath the mountain range at the entry point of the river, the only entrance to the labyrinthic cavern that would give him any chance of finding his manservant.

There. Almost at the point where live trees met dead ones, he found a promising crevice. Arthur dropped himself down on the ground at the edge of the cliff to explore its ridges and plateaus. Further ahead he saw the river disappear into the mountains.

"You won't find him there."

Arthur whirled around to see the same woman. Looking somehow more regal, composed and stiff than before. She also seemed somewhat apologetic.

"You!" he stated furious and accusingly. This woman's mind tricks had Merlin killed, he was almost sure. And she would have offed him too, if he somehow hadn't expelled her control on him, or ended the spell – or something.

As it was, the woman remained unperturbed by his accusing glare. Instead she seemed to hold Arthur in her grasp with her stare only. Perhaps the spell of the forest hadn't lifted entirely. She spoke in his mind, and Arthur could do naught but listen.

_I do not often reconsider a judgement already given, but, though Emrys wasn't aware he asked for it, his mind loudly urged me to provide lenience in your case and look again. _

An uncomfortable feeling crept over Arthur, thought it was nothing like what he'd experienced during their earlier conversation. In some evil twist of fate this sorceress had seen fit to convict him, a prince, by invading his mind, using his memories against him. By all rights, he should be dragging her to Camelot's court to stand trial herself!

Once again Arthur wondered how he could ever effectively strive against witches of her power.

She continued in his mind, looking as if she read every one of his thoughts while she was at it. _I have analysed your memories, your thoughts and your feelings beyond the damning picture they provide on first - and second - glance. _Suspicion confirmed, Arthur felt even more invaded –and offended.

_It seems, like Emrys, you feel guilt beyond the deeds you are accountable for and the abominable deeds that you performed, were not done in your name. Your death would serve little but an irrational thought of retribution. Emrys was right about you. Therefore I will grant you a pardon. _

Arthur was wholly confused. Who was this Emrys? Why would he - _her? it? _\- ask lenience for him? Arthur wanted to know, but… at this point he really rather wanted her to stop her rambling _and let him find his manservant. _

She released her hold on him and spoke aloud. "I know you think ill of me and the religion I represent. But please do understand, I only ever mean to perform my divine task: keeping the balance of all things magical.

"Your father's rule heavily disturbed this balance and I have been unable to execute my task as a result. Many of the magical evils you strive against, I would strive against too. All dark magic that appears to be running rampant in the country since I and my Cwn had to isolate ourselves, we would have been able to keep in check with my court."

"Keep that in mind before you pass a judgment of your own upon others."

The woman stared at him and her voice sounded clear in his head. _I persecuted you wrongly as I believe your court persecutes magic users wrongly. As a token of good faith, hope for the future and as a matter of apology, let me therefore help you retrieve the thing – the two things – you presently desire the most._

_For the first, follow my Cwn. For the second, let your horse guide you. _

Before Arthur could respond, she disappeared in thin air.

.

* * *

.

_the smell of polluted air, taste strong of malign magic_

.

* * *

.

Where the woman had disappeared, three of her hounds now stood. They had lost all of their intimidation, standing docilely and subservient like hunting dogs awaiting an order.

_Follow my Cwn_, she'd said. But Arthur felt very much inclined not to. Why would he trust a sorceress who had tried to kill him, likely killed Merlin? Then again, her regret had seemed genuine and had come just as abruptly as her presence itself.

It could be a trick. But, Arthur reckoned, if she had wanted him dead, she'd already had her chance.

The hounds turned their backs on him to walk in an eastward direction, then stood still to look back to see if he was following. It was the direction Arthur had wanted to take anyway, the direction he'd hoped to find Merlin. Thinking he may have lost his wits for certain, he started to follow the beasts.

They set a pace that was slow enough for Arthur to maintain in the uneven terrain but quick enough for Arthur to feel his muscles strain. It was precisely the speed he felt the situation warranted. As if the hounds had sensed so and adjusted accordingly.

Their route followed the watercourse and soon they traversed through the live forest Merlin and Arthur had started from this morning. Down. Down to where the river entered the Elmet mountains and started its maze-like course.

The hounds stopped at the foot of the mountain, large rock formations towering over them. Suddenly one of the beasts slipped away into the rock. One other almost followed, but turned back to look at Arthur expectantly.

Arthur came forward and pushed at some climbing plants to reveal a concealed crevice in the rock. He examined the crack. It was barely a man's breadth and tapering, but twice his height. The floor was rocky and looked slippery. Five feet downslope stood the first pure white hound enveloped in near-complete darkness. Having no additional light, Arthur questioned the sanity of following.

He took a hesitant step into the cleft, feeling around with both hands and feet to get his bearing. Behind him, the other two hounds followed. It appeared the cave wasn't as pitch black as he'd originally feared. The hounds seemed to collect, intensify and emit all available light, like snow on a new moon's night.

The climb down was cramped and despite the dim light, Arthur bumped his head once or twice on the ever-tapering fissure above and ahead of him. The further they came the more often a gust of ice-cold water streamed in, drenching Arthur's boots and making the route all the more slippery.

The first hound had now truly run off to some unknown destination deep under the mountain. Arthur followed the second and was followed by the third. Far ahead the first dog produced a woeful sound. As it resonated in all corners of the cavern, Arthur could not tell what direction it came from, but the noise of their pack mate seemed to urge the other two on. Their sense of impatience infected Arthur, who suddenly felt time was of great essence. Yet he forced himself to restrain his speed. No-one would be helped if he slipped and cracked his skull in this forsaken labyrinth.

They arrived at an open passage where water freely and relentlessly gushed over Arthur's feet. Its current was strong and Arthur had to hold himself to splits and slits in the wall beside him, prevent his feet from being swept away by the stream. He appeared to be in a blind river channel, spurting and swirling persistently against rock and stone further ahead.

About a dozen yard ahead and a bit to the right, the first hound was a mewling spot of white in otherwise complete darkness. The second started to run toward it and then returned to Arthur, back and forth, back and forth, appearing to be in no way affected by the current, while Arthur arduously made his way over to whatever – whoever – kept the first's attention.

It was only a few yards away from the first hound when he saw another bump in a few inches of water. Merlin lay motionless, his body moved only by the lapsing stream. From close up, he seemed to emit just as much light as the white dogs, his sunken eyes, darkened lips and pitch-black hair a stark contrast to his pale-white skin.

Arthur let out a strangled cry, fully throwing himself forward and grasping the ice-cold boy. Half a foot to their right was a plateau that appeared to be mostly dry. He hauled Merlin onto it and with shuddering, cold fingers he started to look for a pulse. In his wrist? None that Arthur could feel. In his throat? - Faintly. Oh so faintly. Arthur let out a cry of relief.

"Merlin!" he yelled in command, needing more. Needing his manservant to open his eyes and make a silly joke.

It didn't come.

He started to examine Merlin's body and found his arm twisted at an odd angle, ribs that had too much give, a swelling knee and multiple smaller lacerations.

Suddenly he noticed a faint blueish light. It reminded him of the ball he'd seen in the caves where he found the Mortaeus flower, but infinitely smaller and multiplied into droplets and mist. He couldn't really say if they had been there earlier.

A light female voice beckoned. Not the woman of the hounds. No. A higher, smaller, friendlier voice. To his amazement tiny woman appeared, trapped in the mist.

"Thank you, your highness, for getting him back on the plateau. The river washed him away after her divineness left and it has made our task to heal him so much more difficult. Men are not made to remain submerged in water."

"You are healing him?"

"It is the task her divineness, judge of all magic, gave to us. And even without her verdict my sisters would seek to help him."

"Who are you?"

"We are Vilia, spirits of the brooks and streams."

Arthur stared at the being in wonder. Never had he been given any clearer sign that there were types of magic that could be used for good.

"I need to get him back to safety, to warmth." He urged, grateful for their ability to heal, but Arthur's training told him Merlin mostly needed heat first.

"Do not worry. You will both be safe and warm here, if you ensure he stays on the plateau. My sisters will take care of both of you."

It might be silly and hypocritical, but in the darkness surrounded only by ethereal hounds, blueish magical mist and the continued gurgling of a rowdy river, Arthur had started to feel safe and warm. The ice-cold water that drenched him, now comfortably warming, like a bath. He positioned himself in front of Merlin, bodily ensuring the dolt would not be taken by the river, and to his own surprise he submitted to a slow slumber.

.

* * *

.

_the screech of mandrake root cut_

.

* * *

.

Around her, roots. Dangling and dripping from a low, stony ceiling. A figure stormed in through a locked door. Her sister's dark, kohled eyes spread open in anguish and astonishment.

"Morgause?" Her voice croaked from disuse. Only flittingly memory came back to her. All of Camelot asleep. Knights of Medhir. Poison. A fight with Morgause. Her sister's power turned against her.

"My Sister! Fear not. There is a… minor inconvenience with the healing spell." A pale hand snatched dripping root from the ceiling. "I will remedy it, cure you from that boy's poison."

Memories of the mandrake screeching, catching phrases of a half understood spell aimed to bend her mind to Morgause's will.

"_You_ are the poison!" Slow realisation. "Twisting my mind against Camelot and those that tried to aid me."

"Camelot has never tried to aid anyone, Sister. Least of all us. Uther will kill you where you stand."

A hand snatched her wrist. Another grabbed a root. Cutting and squelching. "Soon you will see exactly how much I am aiding you."

A surge of power and faintly familiar words spoken by the woman who called herself her sister '_Mid þæm wundorcræft þæs…_'

.

* * *

.

_the stench of oil dripping_

.

* * *

.

Merlin revived, grouchy and unwilling through the fog of a heavy headache, blinking up to see he was in some sort of cave. The light was dim and blueish, bricks felt hard beneath his bruised and damp – but surprisingly warm - body.

He remembered little of what brought him here. Only the terror of all his mistakes and faults played out grotesquely in his mind, ending with a breathless jump – to escape it all or out of conviction he deserved this death, he did not remember. Then a voice desperately calling his name, barely remembered in the fog of it all. Then a struggle for air, too much water and a woman's voice.

"Arthur!" Merlin shot up, and groaned immediately, a broken rib or two making themselves known.

_Hush, Emrys_. A voice spoke in his mind. _Your worldly body needs more time to heal. Don't strain it yet. _

He looked up and found a woman at his side. He regarded her with a frown. She seemed completely unremarkable except for the slight amount of ethereal blue glow she appeared to emit.

On his other side, he now noticed, lay a sleeping or unconscious Arthur. Alarmed, he jostled the prince's body, which produced an annoyed groan that somewhat sounded like, "Muhli. Too uhly. Not ev'n light." Somewhat mollified he looked up to the woman, and then beyond Arthur at their surroundings.

They were in a cave, with the boisterous river he only half remembered leaping into and sloshing through it. He remembered drowning. He half-remembered a woman lifting him out.

"Who are you?" he asked, a bit bewildered. Like in the forest, he didn't sense anything strange about her, but that did not mean she couldn't wish harm.

_You asked me this before. Though, admittedly you were quite incoherent then. Only concerned for your precious prince I so callously judged. _

And yes, that was right. He had seen her before and he had been enraged with her for – something to do with a fear for Arthur's life. But Arthur lay here next to him, quite healthy and sleeping soundly as far as Merlin could tell.

_I am Mallt. I am the keeper of the balance of magic. I pass judgement on those that use magic unjustly, causing a disrupted balance. Your misconception of guilt drew the judgment of my Cwn upon you. _

Merlin felt her regret and apology wafting from her. Though he barely understood, he could feel she was sincere and accepted the apology without word or gesture, sure in the knowledge she could feel his acceptance exuding from him too.

She continued, _It appears you feel responsibility and regret about many things that are not within your control, Emrys. This almost destroyed the world again…_ Paradoxically, she sounded accusing now.

"I am - sorry?" Merlin said hesitantly. Though she was a far more comforting presence than Kilgarrah, he felt they shared a similar tendency toward riddles and evasiveness.

She looked straight at him with eyes that seemed to see far more than just their surroundings. And as if reading his thoughts, she spoke now clearly, not from mind to mind but with words shaped by mouth as if she wanted the slumbering prince to hear this too.

"I would have roamed the earth many times over with my Cwn to restore the magical imbalance induced by the purge. But my hounds were too sensitive to the uncontrolled assortment of magic running wild in the raging magical storm that arose. We would have acted with the intent to do good and correct the imbalance, but they would only have added to the chaos and disaster – as they nearly did today…"

"We retreated to the secluded forest. I emptied it of the magic within, to contain and protect my Cwn, to protect the world from them... In that space, devoid of magic, I was unable to sense…"

Merlin felt he missed a lot of information here, but like Kilgarrah, he expected that she would not volunteer any more information than she needed to give.

"To sense what?" Merlin sat up. Inexplicably, he felt much better already. His ribs didn't hurt near as much. He suspected the slightly glowing woman and the water to have something to do with his rather remarkable recovery. Perhaps he been closer to death than earlier assumed.

The woman, Mallt, looked him over with a keen eye. _I was unable to sense that the balance had been restored a long time ago. With your birth. _

Merlin gaped. He'd heard 'strongest sorcerer to ever walk the earth', but to think of all magic that was spilled during Uther's purge had been collected within him… It was a bit weird.

Almost as an afterthought that wasn't intended to be heard, she said, _And today I almost unleased all that power upon the world again by letting you die unjustly. _

_You almost let Arthur die unjustly, _he reprimanded her sharply, using mind-speak, reminded of the thoughts and feelings he'd experienced earlier, that she'd somehow been privy to.

_Yes, I almost did that too. In apology to both you and him, I showed him part of the value of magic and have given him the chance to judge for himself. It is now in the hands of the once and future king to decide what our fate is to be. _

She nodded at him and disappeared into nothingness.

.

* * *

.

_a novice trapped_

.

* * *

.

A surge of power. This time hers. Though new to the craft, her innate abilities were strong. A blast and a screech. This time Morgause's. Spell interrupted once more.

Morgana stared at the woman laying before her. Robes the colour of blood; blond hair – so unlike her own – crowning her head. Closed eyes dark as the oily soot dripping from the mandrake roots.

Morgause groaned and Morgana grabbed a large stick, wielded it like a sword and a club alike. A well-aimed strike. Then she ran.

.

* * *

.

_in a high priestess' twisted play_

.

* * *

.

Arthur groggily woke up from his slumber, muddled mind slowly realizing that his current sleeping conditions were rather uncomfortable.

In his near vicinity, people were speaking. Something about magical imbalance, locking up ferocious hounds to protect them from the world and the world from them. Sensing… other things. He couldn't make much of it.

Then he shot up, suddenly recognizing the voices and remembering - hounds, and Merlin, and a near lifeless and oh-so-cold body.

"Merlin!" he called out, elated to find his manservant in much better shape next to him. He pressed the boy into his chest, ecstatic and amazed to find warmth and a steady heartbeat and knitted bones.

Arthur looked him over intently in the dim blue light and Merlin looked back, probably also cataloguing all that might be different about him. "You smell as if you have been pursuing a boar for the better half of the day," his manservant quipped. At that, Arthur knew all was good.

"Pursued by, rather," he admitted ruefully, then punched Merlin's arm for good measure. "Come, let's get out of here and back to the inn, before Leon gets too worried."

The blue light of the supportive water spirits formed a path back to the cleft, very conveniently shining all the brighter around any protrusions and holes in their path.

Arthur looked back at Merlin, who still stood in his place. The light was too dim around him to see his features but Arthur was sure he was looking at Arthur with dumb-struck amazement.

"Lift your chin of the floor, would you? These water spirits have proven themselves quite valuable. I trust them and their light to get us out of these caves, too."

Merlin still didn't move. Arthur made an urging motion in the direction of their way out. "So unless you have any better plan…" He didn't wait for an answer.

Moments later he heard Merlin slosh behind him in the strong river current and he smiled.

"You know Merlin, I really thought I lost you for a moment there. What drove you off the cliff? Guilty thoughts about you shirking on your manservant duties?"

Arthur laughed boisterously about his own joke, immensely relieved to have Merlin back in one piece and alive no matter the how. Still it niggled, and Arthur genuinely wanted an answer. What _had_ driven Merlin of the cliff?

From Merlin's wince it was clear his manservant did hear Arthur's serious undertone, but of course the fool would try to be evasive. Instead of answering he turned the question on Arthur, his voice dangerously suspicious. "The hounds used your thoughts against you too, didn't they?"

"What on earth are you talking about? Royals are above guilt, did you not know?" Arthur deflected with a cocky grin. This time they would be discussing Merlin, and Arthur wouldn't be swerved. He continued with a serious tone. "You know, this sorceress – I know you spoke with her too – she implied she could only affect those with magic…" He let the question hang.

Behind him Merlin slipped on a rock. "Ow…" was the only answer Arthur received. Arthur didn't need light to know the boy wore an expression like a startled deer. He turned around to look at the – it became likelier and likelier - possibly treasonous boy.

"Is that so?" the servant finally managed. He was looking at his feet, carefully avoiding Arthur's scrutinizing gaze.

"Yes. She was quite put out by the fact that she could not affect my father directly and only some kind of… circumstance around my birth made her detect me." Which if that was true, probably so was Morgause's story. Which shed a new light of his father's politics entirely. Question for another day. Now Merlin. "You were chased too…"

He paused. Merlin was still frozen in a pathetic-deer pose. Arthur wondered, just how many hunters with drawn arrows did Merlin imagine himself now surrounded by? Instead of taking pity, he decided to be one of those imaginary hunters, readying his arrow for a strike. "How would you explain that, Merlin?"

Merlin nervously looked behind him. As if the route to the river would bring him an escape. "Well, I don't know. Maybe I had some birth-defect too?"

Arthur snorted. "Hah, There is no question about it, Merlin. That would certainly explain it." He wasn't satisfied with the answer, but he'd seen the terror on Merlin's face and he'd rather not see his servant run from him like he bolted from the hounds. Arthur decided he would keep an eye on Merlin for the days to come. He grinned and walked a few steps back to pat and shuffle his hand through Merlin's wet hair.

Judgement could wait.

For now they had another route to follow. Following the hounds had worked out rather well. Arthur was somewhat looking forward to where his horse would bring him.

.

* * *

.

_a true wrongdoer, for her hounds to chase_

.

* * *

.

She found books of magic, she found a stock of food and a thirst soothing brook. But in the next days, she found, there was no way out.

There was a forest that stretched around the ruins in an ever-extending and constricting spiral. She would walk straight out, but at the end of the day she would find herself back at castle remains again, where a scornful Morgause waited with a blackened eye.

Head held high, niggling fear suppressed by pride and trust in her innate powers that assisted her before, Morgana spoke. "Release the spell you are holding over this area! Let me return to Camelot."

"Your behaviour does not befit a High Priestess, Sissster. Let me teach you the way of the old religion and you will know all."

"You used me. You tried to use my power to your own will. I will not trust your ways again."

"So be it."

As Morgause advanced on her, wolf howls sounded.

.

* * *

.

_the chase short, the avenged, malicious power tingling in her grasp_

.

* * *

.

Merlin desperately wanted to know what was going on with the prince. He had been acting strangely since the incident with Mallt. All of the sudden he'd been unusually comfortable around cut-clear magic, even accepted it, in the caves of the Elmet mountains. Then he'd suddenly turned around like a leaf on a tree, a practically accused Merlin of sorcery like it was the worst thing imaginable. Which, to the prince, it probably was.

Now he was stringing them all on a new type of quest that seemed completely unrelated to their search for Morgana. Even Sir Leon and Sir Degore had expressed their concerns, but the prince had waved them all away. Arthur had them all on their horses, and they had been riding - without any plan, no obvious route, no strategy, no clarification, no information -for five days straight. Merlin's bottom was sore…

In those days Arthur had looked too many times at Merlin in a way that Merlin could only describe as a mixture of bewilderment and confusion. Though he didn't understand why Arthur had difficulty with accepting Merlin's excuse that he evidently had some kind of a birth defect too, but swallowed the lie that he'd slayed a dragon like Cook's honeyed cakes.

Moreover - and this was most likely entirely unrelated to the prince's mood, but it irked Merlin no less - all his protecting spells he'd ever put on anything associated to Arthur – had suddenly disappeared. Broken. Gone. Not a whiff of them left. Ever since he returned to the inn, Merlin had been rebuilding his shields and charms surreptitiously by claiming everything needed a good clean or scrub. It had Arthur elated and mocking at finding Merlin suddenly such good manservant. But it again was at the cost of increased scrutiny.

Presently, a sore-bottomed Merlin, tired from all the magic he'd been casting and quite annoyed at all glances he was getting, was having rather enough of Arthur's moods and all the aimless horse riding, and decided to go on a more confrontational route.

"You do realise that the last time you refused to tell me where we were heading, had both of us almost killed in a magical forest."

"Oh, don't exaggerate, Merlin. I'd say with both of us alive and uninjured, that went particularly well."

Merlin only grumbled in response.

Arthur was sitting leisurely atop his horse, in a way that Merlin probably wouldn't be able to do in… well - ever. The prince didn't appear to give his mount any direction at all, and looked for all the world as if he simply was having a casual stroll around the park. Merlin held some contempt for Arthur's bottom as it was clear Arthur didn't feel any discomfort at all. It was quite unfair.

Without any effort from Arthur, his mount chose their next path. Merlin rolled his eyes at the literal aimlessness seeing confirmed when suddenly he realised "We are following the horse again, aren't we?"

"It worked rather well the last time it was recommended." Arthur confirmed.

Merlin wanted to argue that Arthur near-killing his farther as a result shouldn't be called fine, when he understood - "Mallt is helping you find Morgana!"

"Who?"

"The woman of the dead forest." The keeper of balance, the judge of all magicals, he didn't say, not wanting to start that rather uncomfortable conversation again.

"She gave you her name?" Arthur asked a tad perplexed, as if that was something remarkable, then continued. "She apologised; evidently saw the wrongs of her ways in persecuting others when she didn't have the right." There was pride in Arthur's voice, as if he personally put her in her place. Merlin scoffed. "Then she spoke of recompense and… well let's just say it's part of the original plan to follow any lead that may help us find Morgana. It is worth a shot at least."

"By following a horse…?" Merlin had to make sure.

"By following a horse."

"…"

"…"

"Alright then…"

As Merlin was suspecting by now, the horse led them steadily to a lake, then through the lake, through a curtain of water and through a cave to a magical land, steadily on their way to the castle Morgause led them to more than a year ago. He noticed Leon and Degore becoming slightly nervous, uncomfortable in this obviously magical area that seemed to exist in parallel to, or beneath, or beside – Merlin wasn't too sure, he would read up on it at home – the mapped world they knew.

When they came upon the castle it appeared deserted. The chopping block was still there. The axe too. Merlin experienced a full body shudder.

Arthur did his hand signal thing. Leon and Degore obediently set out on a separate course, scouting around the ruins. Merlin simply followed Arthur, though probably the prat had meant for him to do something else.

Merlin let loose his increased sense of magic. Ever since he had experienced the constriction of Mallt's dome and its complete lack of other magic, he'd been very aware of how far his own magic extended – ridiculously wide – and what the magic of other beings felt like – comfortable, gentle, spiky, rough, curious, ferocious.

In this magical area, the surrounding power felt full, oppressive almost. He closed his eyes and focused. A source of power, close by. It felt…

His focus was rudely disturbed by a hand roughly grabbing his shoulder. "Not the time for sleeping on your feet, Merlin! You. Scour left. I'll go right."

Merlin had barely set three steps to the left when Sir Degore shouted from beyond the ruin walls. "Sire, here! There's a body…"

Arthur rushed past Merlin toward the voice. Merlin followed at a more sedate pace, still working out his muscle ache. He rounded the corner of what used to be a stately caste wall and almost bumped into Arthur who stood completely motionless staring at the body Degore had mentioned.

It was a woman. Curly blond hair. A beautiful deep-red dress with silvery decorations adorning arms that appeared to reach or protect against a foe that could not be seen. Her face was mushed into the mud and Merlin could not see…

Carefully Sir Degore turned the body around and both Merlin and Arthur gasped, their suspicions confirmed.

"Morgause."

.

* * *

.

_justice served, a promise kept_

.

* * *

.

Arthur stared in horror at the clearly lifeless form of the sorceress that abducted the woman he considered his sister. By the stiffness and state of the body Arthur estimated she died perhaps the day before, maybe two. There was a mark on Morgause's face that may have been a bruise and bump, but with the sunken blood blackening her frame he could not be sure whether it caused her death.

He stared at Morgause's muddy face that incongruously seemed to be contorted in a grimace of fright.

What could have killed a powerful sorceress and left barely a mark? Where was Morgana? Had she suffered a similar faith?

He didn't notice Merlin, until his manservant gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Leon says he found some traces that Morgause wasn't alone, there were two or three people here. They probably fled for whatever caught up with Morgause. Maybe we still have a chance of finding Morgana"

Arthur looked at his manservant who appeared more troubled than hopeful, still his manservant's words encouraged him. He stood up and started scouring the area once more.

The ivy-covered ruins opened up to a vibrant but misty forest. In extension of the crumbling doorway a clear path had been drawn through the underbrush. Broken stems and low branches, a shred of a bright purple dress.

What if the woman of the dead forest had taken her hounds here and led them to chase first Morgause then Morgana? What if she guided him here, just so he could find their dead bodies… If that were true, he would hunt that woman into the abyss, that he knew.

There was some rustling ahead. With hand signals he directed both Sir Leon and Sir Degore to circle around in either direction. He refrained from giving Merlin a specific order. The dolt would probably hide behind a tree instead anyway.

The rustling continued and Arthur took up his sword, walking forward cautiously. While looking ahead to where the noises came from he held up his left arm in a gesture for Merlin not to follow. It could be a trap and the idiot was unarmed.

From the misty forest a woman's body appeared and suddenly he recognized the rather dishevelled form.

"Morgana!" Arthur was elated. He stabbed his sword into the ground, ran forward and embraced the woman, pressed her frail body close to his heart. She felt thin and cold and shaky.

"How are you here, alone? What happened to Morgause? Are there any other captors?" He suddenly regretted leaving his sword behind. He looked back to where Merlin had picked it up. His manservant gaped uncharmingly at the two of them.

Morgana flinched, evidently fearful and sensing his anger at her captors. He'd have to be conscious of how he acted around her, he reminded himself, a woman abducted would likely be sensitive to aggression for a while to come.

Merlin stopped gaping and stared rather furiously at Morgana, as if her presence personally irked him. His manservant had displayed more of these strange characteristics ever since Arthur had the mind to start paying attention. Arthur wanted to snarl at Merlin to be careful who he aimed his anger at, but then inexplicably Morgana spoke to the servant.

"I know why you did it, Merlin. I know now you had no choice. Please forgive me, Merlin. Morgause had some sort of enchantment over me. I did not know. I didn't realise what she was doing through me." She stumbled past Arthur to Merlin, who now looked perplexed and unsure, his eyes flitting to Arthur in trepidation and apology both. He didn't answer Morgana, who appeared to see his silence as some kind of judgement, and stood dejectedly for a moment.

"Morgana," Arthur urged again, taking the few steps toward them. First things first. "We know Morgause is dead, but do we need to prepare for any attackers?"

"There's no-one else. It was only Morgause. Until… until…" she faltered.

"What happened, Morgana?"

"A few days ago. Suddenly all spells stopped working. All of them. Including some sort of enchantment Morgause held over me. A ritual, with… roots. It just stopped working. And I realised what she was – what she was doing to me and I – I… " she stumbled to a stop. Words stuck in her throat. She trembled in his arms and appeared to swallow some words "I couldn't find the way out."

Had Morgana killed Morgause? How had she achieved it? How desperate must she have been, killing a witch who kept her trapped, then trying to escape and finding herself still confined by her surroundings alone. He hugged her even tighter.

"I found you" he whispered soothingly in her ear, a tad too sappy in the presence of Merlin. He slapped his manservant's far too insolent grin off his face.

It was time to return home to a new start.

.

* * *

.

_a just start for the era of the Once and Future King_

.

* * *

.

"She called herself Mallt, you say? Keeper of the magical balance?"

"Yes. Have you heard of her?"

Gaius frowned his frown, choosing a big tome from his wide selection of books and dragging it to the table.

"Well yes. She is quite famous in all the bedtime stories magical families would tell their children. A good way to teach them to use magic responsibly and stay away from dark magic at all costs."

He paged through the tome, back and forth as if unsure what he should look up first. Merlin sat opposite him, inhaling the soup with a side dish of bread and cheese in front of him.

"And she judged you?"

"Killed me too." At Gaius' alarmed face, he continued a bit defensively "She brought me back! And apologised and helped Arthur with his search. So no ill feelings. I think she and her hounds were a bit out of sorts due to their self-imposed magical isolation."

"You let her run free. To persecute magicals out there willy nilly?"

"It is not willy nilly Gaius. From what I understood of it, the hounds have the ability to literally sniff out dark magic or those who upset the magical balance or use it for ill purposes. It feels as if I have finally someone working on my side."

Again the eyebrow.

"A powerful one, I mean." He winced. He did not mean to bring Gaius' loyalties into question or belittle his effort.

Gaius hummed. "What does Arthur think of her?"

Merlin did not get the chance to answer the question as said prince barged in.

"Gaius!"

"Can I do something for you, my Lord?"

The prince looked a moment at Merlin, then Gaius again and the big tome on the table.

"I just wanted to thank you… What-is-that-you-are-reading?" He almost stumbled over his words to get the second sentence out, clearly more interested in that than his excuse to visit. Inquisitively he walked up to their table and studied the picture that lay open for all to see – snow-white hounds with red ears.

Merlin felt the urge to slam it closed, even though Arthur had already seen the incriminating pictures, and come up with a myriad of excuses but his mentor beat him to it. "Merlin was just telling me about the deity – goddess of magical law in the old religion - and her ethereal helpers that helped find Morgana. Common lore would let us believe they look something like this."

"Common lore is quite right then, they looked similar."

"You saw them?!" Merlin was baffled, he'd had no idea.

Arthur only looked at him as if he was particularly daft. "You didn't?!"

Gaius merely looked at the both of them and broke the silence. "Well, it appears they come in various forms, just like the lore states too. Arthur, what do you want to thank me for?"

"For aiding Morgana mentally and physically." He continued on as if that bit of the conversation wasn't important right now. "So, it appears you and your books know more of this deity, this _Mallt…_" He seemed to taste the name on his tongue and looked at Merlin inquisitively "…should I be worried about her persecuting my people in spite of the jurisdiction of the King and the law of the lands?"

Merlin stared at Gaius and hoped he would take in account what Merlin had said. Gaius shifted on the bench and looked intently at the prince. "Pardon me for saying this, but I believe that, despite your upbringing, you've learned there are many types of magic, some more malevolent than others. Yes?"

Merlin shifted his focus to his prince. Gaius seemed to wait for Arthur's reaction too. The prince nodded minutely, apparently not taken offense at the bordering-on-treasonous comment.

"I believe you also know that those who perform the most dark magic are those who cannot be caught and held by our mundane system." Another contemplative nod. "Before the purge, we often did not try to. The magical community would regulate themselves. It seems that, considering your experience with her, this Mallt played a rather large part in this magical system of law and order. It is in in her interest, in the interest of the balance of magic, to keep dark magic in check. I would consider her an ally more than an adversary."

Arthur hummed. "But would it not be hypocritical to leave her be?"

"With all due respect, my Lord, she is a goddess of the old religion, a being that is part of the earth. I would think you have little choice but to '_leave her be_'."

Merlin held his breath, awaiting Arthur's response.

He was quiet for a long time.

Then Arthur spoke. "You say, Gaius, that this goddess has the power to keep even the strongest of magic users in check. However, even I, who have no magic, withstood her hold on me for a moment. Even if she were to judge fairly, I doubt her strength to enforce her own law."

Gaius looked at Merlin for a calculating moment. "You do not seem to realise, my lord, it was exactly your limited association with magic that made it difficult for her to keep you in her grasp. Magic is her affinity. The stronger the magic user, the more she can use against them."

Arthur seemed to mull over this for a while, his eyes inexplicably drawn to Merlin multiple times. Merlin tried to look not as self-conscious as he felt.

"What would you say, Merlin? You know, since you spoke her too."

Merlin flustered. No idea to communicate his actual thoughts under Arthur's close scrutiny.

"I…- I think…"

"Well, Merlin any day now. It is not like you to stumble over words."

"I stumble a lot."

"Over your feet? Yes. Over your words? No. I am asking you to state your mind for once. If I knew that would shut you up, I would have done it ages ago."

Merlin couldn't help but laugh and decided on something noncommittal that would push Arthur – hopefully – in the right direction. Perhaps Gaius' tutelage was rubbing off on him after all.

But what left his mouth was the following: "I would think even the King cannot object to another institution that judges magical beings."

Then he winced, perhaps it was not such a bright idea to mention the King after all. He didn't actually want Arthur to bring this matter to Uther. That would end horribly.

Arthur grinned the grin that showed all his teeth and he came forward to shake Merlin's shoulder. "Well Gaius, I think you speak wise words. Merlin on the other hand… I do not feel the need to report the dealings we had with this goddess of the old religion to my father. As long as she holds her court unobtrusively, she will be free to do so."

He stopped and looked at Merlin when he continued "When I am King, perhaps I will ask her for her judgement on the cases of magic that cross our court too."

Then he left, leaving a baffled Merlin with a spark of hope for the future in his heart.

.

* * *

.

_Gather 'round, children. The fire is warm and it is cold outside. Tonight even the animals keep to their holes and nests. Because on evenings like these, the Wild Hunt rides once again._

_The goddess of magical law rides out with her ethereal hounds, white as the otherworld itself, ears red as blood. When they hunt you, you cannot see them coming. You only hear their howling which quietens the nearer they get. And as they draw closer all your wrongdoings and darkness will come out for the world to see. That's when they start chasing you. They'll hunt you till your heart stops._

_So always remember to be kind-hearted and cautious like the lady Morgana, when you are using your magic._

_Be honourable and brave like Camelot's new King._

_Be wise and gentle in your judgement like his magical advisor._

_Do good with your power and fear neither Goddess nor King._

.

_Embrace the new world, my child. _

.

.

.

**Author's note: **

**That was it! My first fanfic ever, finally posted! whew Hope you have enjoyed. I am curious about all your thoughts and critisisms, so please share if you have any :)**

**For those who are interested: The Wild Hunt is a widespread folklore motif in European lore. In Welsh Mythology, the Cŵn Annwn, or hounds from the underworld, take part in the Wild Hunt. Sometimes they are accompanied by a fearsome hag called Mallt-y-Nos, 'Mathilda of the Night'. How the Cwn looked, acted and affected others in this fic was heavily inspired by what Wikipedia could tell me about them.**


End file.
